Two weeks ago, on a painfully lonely Monday afternoon, my phone vibrated from across the room. I had half a mind not to pick it up. I was half asleep and generally regretting my own existence. Nonetheless, I stumbled out of bed.
I don’t usually get phone calls from anyone other than my parents (mostly because I never answer when anyone else calls) so I sort of warmed up from head to toe when a familiar name popped up on my screen, one I didn’t think I’d see for a while. My friend, Mo (who runs a blog called seasonal words abroad, go have a look) had arrived in Amsterdam where she’ll be staying for the next 6 months and I guess she was missing home a little. I mean, who wouldn’t if they were alone on a whole different continent.
We talked about all sorts of things – school, friends, the grown up the world and how it was different to what we imagined it would be, but perhaps better. We talked about our plans and how the future was scary. Mostly, talked about feeling a little lost.
We didn’t really exchange advice, from what I can remember. Yet, things just started to make a bit more sense after that talk, at least for me. It’s amazing what a willing ear and a few words of encouragement can do.
I will forever be so grateful for the people in my life. The ones who accept me without judgement though I can be strange and unbearable at times. They are always there for me, to support my grand schemes or comfort me on my lowest… even if they’re oceans away.
Mo, you said you really needed that phone call. But I needed it more. Thank you.